A Simple Complex
by scullyseviltwin
Summary: It figures, he wakes up and she's by his bedside. FINALE SPOILERS. HouseCam


He couldn't even fuck her in his head. There was something about doing that to her that made it wholly impossible to imagine her into strange positions, catering to his every need. But that was what he wanted... He wanted her wanton and naked on the ground before him, just for him. God, he wanted the sweet little mouth spouting very bad words, making him do very bad things.

And even in his own deluded hallucinations, he couldn't muster the courage to work her out of her clothes. Everything that he wanted to divest her of was what initially attracted him. So porcelain-like, an angel of sorts who's past was more sordid than he'd dared to dream. The smart suits hiding distinctly feminine curves. He liked that they were covered, that he could fantasize about why lingered beneath them.

Perhaps that was what had destroyed his dream in the first place. He was the antithesis of pure, of chaste, of innocent. And she, simply judging from the milky-perfection of her skin, was the polar opposite. And this he craved, craved like a methadone patient for heroine; craved like a twelve-stepper for just one more drink. He craved until he hated himself both inside and out and then hated himself some more, just to convince himself that he was being thorough.

The image of her in starched white was too appealing. He could see her striding along, white save for the black shoes. She would walk so flawlessly, pretty and pretty and perfect and wouldn't even bother to pause when he fell at her feet. House wanted perfection, wanted every little bit of what he wasn't and of what he couldn't have.

It was a simple complex that was too complex to be simple.

He remained in that dream state, that coma of clouds for a good week before a dank presence in his mouth and an unholy throbbing in his head drew his eyelids up. The fluorescence was much brighter than he remembered and he made his observation known with a startled grunt and a twitch of his arm.

She was the first thing to come into his field of his vision. What a startling sight to first glance upon, a woman so intent on a man opening his eyes. There was joy there in front of him and he couldn't take it.

He hated her.

He loved her.

He fed off the very vision of her.

It was strange, how very alike the real Cameron was to the drug-induced specimen that resided solely in his head. She was still pretty and perfect and poised. She was just the same, except there were deep, dark circles underneath her eyes, and there were dry streaks of tears on her cheeks. Her hair was disheveled though it still shined and her hands were grasping his arm, something she'd never dared to do in his medulla.

Cameron swallowed something fierce and set her shoulders before she allowed herself to utter a simple, "House?" Oh, that weepy little slip of a word hit his soft spot hard, and if he too could have swallowed, he would have. But his mouth was like papyrus and his limbs felt as though they were dead weight at his side and before he could even motion for it, Cameron was lifting a pink pitcher of water in order to fill a cup.

Rolling his eyes hurt more than he'd anticipated but really, it had been worth it. When she brought the cup of water to his lips and maneuvered the straw between them he really attempted to be pissed, to continue on loathing her for… For what? For being the first thing he saw, for lingering in his mind, for always being there if he ever needed her-he never needed her.

To prove it, House set his lips down in a hard, straight line, puckering the straw and closing the opening. Cameron sobbed a little laugh, his angry ploy dissolving as quickly as it had been formulated. His tongue made a sucking motion and water flooded his mouth.

But his throat blessed him, praised him wonderfully for the cool indulgence... even though it hurt like a bitch.

It hurt to look at her

"I think I dreamt of you," he rasped, drawing a cool breath of air down into his lungs. It was the truth and besides, he didn't lie. He only dealt in half-lies. "You were in knee-high leather boots and had a whip... I was a very bad boy," he quipped, coughing due to his emphasis of 'bad.'

One hand flew to the back of his head, the other rested gently over his chest. "Stop it, please," she hissed hard, not at all as comforting as she'd been when he'd been comatose. "Just lay back and shut up."

House slapped her hands away, immediately regretting the sudden movement. All of the muscles that composed his body screamed out as though they were at a Sox/Yankees game and it was the bottom of the ninth, three men on. Waves passed by his eyes, nausea prodding at the base of his stomach. "Relax," Cameron sighed, a gentle hand on his forehead. It was more touching than any touch had been in his life to that point and coupled with her anger was far too real for him to process in such a state.

Their eyes connected and they stared, long moments passed between them until she once again sat, still worrying, but this time worrying her hands on her thighs. "You know," she began, "I've always wanted to go to Colorado? Visit that hotel that 'The Shining' was based on..."

House said nothing. He was too busy dissecting the calming cadence of her voice.

Settling her tiny frame back into the unbearably uncomfortable chair, she continued her one-sided dialogue. "I think it would be very interesting... and I know we're scientists and we're not supposed to believe in stuff like that but it's fun to indulge..." It was then that he noticed that it was dark outside and that she hadn't alerted the nurses to his consciousness. "I enjoy frightening things, scary movies... not horror, just scary..."

For once, he just listened, his head going to the pillow, his eyes closing and his mind absorbing every tiny word she said. "I know you don't want to be awake," she accused gently.

Again, he moved too quickly for his muscles' liking. Gaze focused upon her, he watched her mouth move as she spoke, "I won't tell if you won't."

Of course he wouldn't tell.

It's not like he wanted everyone to know he was very much enamored with Allison Cameron.


End file.
